Haldir's Lament
by Meril Gamgee
Summary: After Helm's Deep, Éowyn wonders about Haldir as she helps the Elves prepare his body for his homecoming. From Éowyn's POV.


A/N: This is just another little ficlet I came up with in memory of my beloved Haldir from Éowyn's point of view. Here follows a poorly translated Elven lament, with translation at the bottom. Enjoy!  
Disclaimer: Not mine. All the Prof's.  
  
I slowly walked through the rubble of the hall in the Hornburg. My uncle, brother, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and our best guards and riders were already gone. The women and children behind me cautiously crept out. An old and battle-weary man splattered with dark orc blood assured us there were no Uruk-hai left alive. The survivors had started to pile the corpses of the Uruk-hai and collect the bodies of our own soldiers. There were some Elves left as well, and they started collecting the bodies of their dead with great sadness. I watched them. They just looked dazed and confused. I realised that none of them had ever witnessed death before, as their race do not die. But now tens, maybe hundreds of them lay dead across the Deeping Wall and on the ground. My heart became heavy for these beautiful creatures. I had never seen Elves up close before Legolas came here, but even then I did not speak to him. I regretted that my first meeting with the most graceful and beautiful race on Middle-earth had to be in a time of war and grief.  
Several Elves had climbed up on the wall and started to carry the body of one Elf down. He wore golden armour and a red cloak and evidently was someone of importance. I stood watching them. I knew I should not have, but I could not stop watching them, they were hypnotising. An Elf was standing behind me and I did not realise it.  
'Your heart aches for us, does it not, my lady?'  
I was momentarily startled as I turned around to see him. 'My lady?' I said in surprise.  
'Surely you are the Lady Éowyn?'  
'Yes... I am. I am sorry, you startled me.'  
'I did not mean to, my lady. My name is Glormaethor.' The Elves carrying the body up off the wall had set it down near where I was standing. I looked to them.   
'Who was he?' I asked.  
'That was Haldir, Captain of Lórien. He led us here from our home at the bidding of Elrond of Rivendell and of our Lord and Lady, Celeborn and Galadriel.' He spoke the words with such reverence, my heart ached even more. 'He was a truly great Elf, and he fought and died well.'  
'How did he die?' I asked quietly.  
'He was struck by an Uruk-hai axe where his armor did not save him.'  
'Can I see him?' The words left my mouth without even thinking. I did not mean to say them aloud.  
The Elf left, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. For a moment I was afraid I had offended him, but then he looked up and beckoned to me. I cautiously walked over and knelt down beside the grieving Elves. They seemed to not notice me.  
Haldir looked peaceful and beautiful even in death. What first struck me was his eyes, dark unlike his kin. They were open, looking to the sky, dead. His cloak was wrapped around him, and his armor shone in the morning sun, looking like new, not a scratch to be seen. His sword had been lain beside him, covered with Uruk-hai blood. His red cloak was wrapped around him, as if shielding him from the cold, which he would feel no longer. His blonde hair was arrayed about his shoulders, lovingly combed by his men. His skin was pale, smooth and clear, like porcelain. The years of wisdom were still evident in his face, his age being much greater than mine, and his wisdom and experience more so. It was a great shame that such a graceful being like him and his kin could be slaughtered mercilessly in war. A war in which they should never have been. Looking at him, he seemed so delicate, so elegant, it was hard to believe that Elves could be roused to great wrath and fight in war and yet they had done so, thousands of years before my people had even come into existence.  
My heart was stirred. I apprehensively reached out and brushed his face with my fingertips. His skin was icy to the touch. The Elves again did not seem to notice me, their heads bowed in silence. One lone voice started to slowly sing a soft lament:  
  
Haldir o Lórien, maenniel gand  
A annamen le buiamín  
Da canmen le  
An ú-mín sad 'wanath  
Dan ned dagor, le delu  
  
A Haldir, le nant cand togmín  
Man togammen auth admin edain  
Bemín einyr no mín  
Dan ú-pain tollin bar  
An Lórien samín meleth  
  
Nae i eraid mín!  
Vedui eriad edhellen  
Na Valannor círmen  
Dan le, Haldir,  
Vi Lórien le ui idh.  
  
The beauty of their song brought me to near tears. The one who sang turned to me.  
'Would you help us clean his wounds, my lady?'  
Astonished, I nodded. I fetched some water and bandages and returned. The Elf removed his golden breastplate. The back of it was covered in blood, with the top portion cleft in two. I gently started to wipe the blood from his wound while the others cleaned his face of the dirt and blood and grazes of the fight. Even though I knew nothing of Haldir and his kind, I started to weep for him. For them. For my cousin. For my brother. For my people. For everyone.  
Glormaethor turned to me. 'Do not weep for us. We are strong and ageless, as he once was. We often say that The One gave his greatest gift to Men.'  
'What was it?'  
'Death. We grow weary of this world but yet must live on. We die either in battle, or in grief. Our time here is ending. We must move on to the Undying Lands and leave this Earth in your capable hands.'  
Glormaethor placed his hand on my chin and tilted my face up to meet his, his intense blue eyes looking deeply into mine.  
'Éowyn of Rohan, do not despair. You are strong, brave and valiant, a shieldmaiden. You will find your purpose and your soul will rest. Do not dwell on us, for we are the past. You must look to yourself and your kin. You are the future. We are fading. You are strengthening. The earth is yours now.'  
He gently touched my cheek. 'Do not forget me nor my kind, but do not wish to be like us. We have seen many awful things in life, death and war. I would not wish any of it upon you.'  
The minstrel gently touched my hand to get my attention. 'Would you help me bandage him?'  
I knelt down and helped the Elves wind the bandage around Haldir's body, around his death-wound. Looking at it, it didn't look that bad. Not enough to kill such a creature as an Elf. Certainly not a warrior-elf as Haldir. It was all a senseless waste.  
I helped the minstrel replace Haldir's bloodstained underclothes.   
'What did you sing of him?' I asked.  
'Alas, my lady, I cannot tell you. My grief is too great.'  
I took the rag I held and gave it one last wipe across Haldir's golden armour. Shapes of the massive trees of Caras Galadhon adorned it. Elvish messages were carved along the edges. I wanted to know what they said, but I did not want to ask.  
We re-pinned his red cloak to his armour, his cloak pins bearing the sign of the Elf-Queen Galadriel. I wondered if I would ever command respect like that. To have people under my rule. Living, fighting, dying in my name. My thoughts shattered. I would never have that power.  
Glormaethor turned to me. 'We are ready to leave, my lady. Would you like to say goodbye?'  
His words seemed strange. Saying goodbye to a person I did not know. Yet, I felt compelled.  
'Westu hál. Ferðu, Haldir, ferðu.'  
It was a simple saying, which I felt was inadequate, but I felt there was nothing more I could have said. I just hoped that his soul was received and he was at peace with the other great ones of his kind. It was the least he deserved.  
  
Haldir of Lórien, you fought bravely  
And we honour you  
Yet we mourn you  
Because it is not our place to die  
And yet in battle, you fell  
  
Oh Haldir, you were our brave captain  
Who led us to war again with me  
Like our ancestors before us  
But some of us are not returning home  
To Lórien which we love  
  
Alas that these days should be ours!  
The last days of our race  
To Valinor we sail  
But you, Haldir,  
In Lórien you shall forever rest. 


End file.
